


In the Wake

by FrogSpawn



Series: Septiplier/Danti One-Shots [14]
Category: Video Blogging RPF, jacksepticeye
Genre: Depression, Dubious Consent, Funerals, Gen, Grief/Mourning, Hospitalization, Insanity, Mental Health Issues, Multi, Murder, No Romance, Suicide Attempt, Thunderstorms, hit and run
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-13
Updated: 2020-08-13
Packaged: 2021-03-05 19:13:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,742
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25880383
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FrogSpawn/pseuds/FrogSpawn
Summary: The wood gleamed red and blue and green as the light filtered through stained glass windows to fill the space dimly. Even with his vision blurred with tears, when Sean looked up and met dark brown eyes he couldn't catch the moment hope bloomed in his gut. It was trampled on, brutal searing pain suffocating and throttling it until it had replaced the numbness. Wrong brown eyes. Wrong, they were just wrong. Sean turned away from Dark, unable to face him with his likeness to his younger brother.
Relationships: Darkiplier/Sean McLoughlin, Mark Fischbach/Amy Nelson, Mark Fischbach/Sean McLoughlin
Series: Septiplier/Danti One-Shots [14]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1426423
Comments: 1
Kudos: 8





	In the Wake

**Author's Note:**

> This is not an accurate depiction of mental health. Psychopaths are not murderous by nature, depression doesn't make one violent, and being unstable mentally doesn't make someone a murderer. This is a work of pure fiction. If you are interested then please do further research into it as this is not factual.
> 
> I have wanted to write something like this for ages. It isn't edited and it was written in a short amount of time however I am relatively happy with how it came out. It could be confusing but hopefully this will clear it up.
> 
> Originally I had wanted to leave it at the funeral scene, however as I wrote it deviated from the plan and took on a life of its own. I may still write another fic which focuses more heavily on Dark seducing and using Sean after his boyfriend dies, but this isn't such a fic. It turned into more a Antisepticeye origin story esque creation which is okay with me. Anyway, enjoy, and don't forget to comment, they make my day. <3

The wood gleamed red and blue and green as the light filtered through stained glass windows to fill the space dimly. Even with his vision blurred with tears, when Sean looked up and met dark brown eyes he couldn't catch the moment hope bloomed in his gut. It was trampled on, brutal searing pain suffocating and throttling it until it had replaced the numbness. Wrong brown eyes. Wrong, they were just wrong. Sean turned away from Dark, unable to face him with his likeness to his younger brother. 

Instead, he focused on the wooden coffin before him. Only the coffin, as the framed picture propped up by bunches of varying types of flowers invited too much pain. Even so, out of the corner of his eye, Sean spied roses. Roses. He suppressed a sneer - Mark hated roses. He said they smelt as if they were permanently decomposing and were too much trouble in maintenance for the bland pristine look many seemed to adore.

Silence held most of the attendance in a tight grip, a seal of sorrow on their mouths that prevented them from uttering a sound. Sobs caught in throats, tears silent as they slid down the faces of family and friends. A few couldn't help to create noise though. Sean's eyes slid to Tyler, who was forced to lean against Wade as hiccuped cries left his throat. Beside him was Mark's mother, who seemed to be held by a spell of disbelief. Her husband was alongside her, an arm looped around her shoulders, whispering support, as if waiting for her to crumple.

Sean felt sick. His thought betrayed him. As soon as crumple had crossed his mind, it pinged directly to the memory of Mark as he crumpled into a pile of broken bones and gushing crimson. He remembered vividly how the car stopped, and then sped off, scraping a street lamp on its way to avoid being held responsible. He also remembered how when Mark was loaded into an ambulance, the paramedics had told him there wasn't much hope. That if Sean held Mark's hand then it might provide comfort for Mark. There was delayed anguish at how Mark was still conscious and aware. Sean couldn't find his hand.

It was only a week later when Mark finally passed that Sean registered anything. He was handed a small plastic bag containing the possessions that Mark had on him when he was admitted. His clothes had been shredded and weren't included. Amongst them, was Mark's wedding ring. Sean didn't know he still had it. He thought that when Mark kissed him six months after Amy had passed, that he was at peace with losing her. Mark never mentioned her in conversation, although Sean heard her name, a quiet whisper, when they were intimate, bathed in darkness. Something akin to hatred boiled in Sean's stomach. At who, he wasn't sure. But it bubbled alongside grief all the same.

"Sean."

The voice was almost the same pitch. Sometimes Sean mistook Dark for his younger when all he could hear was his voice. Now was no expectation. His head whirled, eyes wide and glassy with unshed tears. He relaxed, almost. Then tensed as he realised the bitterness was boiling over. He turned to stare at the coffin again.

"Sean, you should sit down."

He couldn't respond. If he opened his mouth, Sean feared that he would either dissolve into wails or he would curse Mark out. For leading him on. For not making him feel like enough. For lying. For loving him more than anyone else and then leaving. For not looking both ways when he crossed the fucking road.

Sean's tears finally began to fall. Like many, they were silent. Thunder rumbled ahead, echoing through the church. It was cold. Absently, Sean noticed Dark draping his blazer on his shoulders. It was still cold.

The seats were even colder. Everything was ice, numbing and pricking at Sean's skin until his insides had frozen and all he could feel was the wind trickling in from underneath the crack of the door. Sean wanted Dark to stop talking, to stop talking, just to shut the fuck up. Sean didn't have the energy to tell him that.

"Perhaps we should step outside."

Sean didn't bother to tell Dark that it was raining, and that the sky was alight with lightning as it crackled and rumbled in the distance. So he was led outside.

They were soaked within seconds, but neither minded. Sean shook on his feet, blinking lethargically. He wanted to sleep.

"I want to sleep."

Dark nodded, eyes hard on Sean's pallid, blank face. "We could go back to the hotel for a nap and be back for the speeches."

The thunder was beating a drum, bursts of loud noise, and sheets of loud, ice rain.

"I want to never wake up."

Despite not saying anything, Dark moved to hold Sean. Perhaps Dark did, but it was simply hidden by the lashing rain and the roaring storm. They stood there for an amount of time. It didn't matter in the end. Seconds seemed to drawl by, sneering and poking at him and mocking him as they left and another arrived to scorn him. It felt like an eternity. It was probably a few minutes.

The door opened and Ethan put his head out. He nodded to Dark, as if already knowing that Sean wouldn't recognise any attempts of communication with him, and cast Sean a sympathetic and severely concerned stare before returning back into the dry. Dark led Sean back in, stopping him to wipe his feet so as to not track water into the church.

I'm not a fucking child, Sean thought, as everyone sluggishly moved to their seats and Bob moved to the stage before Mark's coffin to begin the ceremony.

It was almost entirely drowned out by thunder.

Sean still isn't sure how he got here. On his back, whimpering someone's name, staring into brown eyes as he was fucked roughly into the headboard. The eyes were still wrong, but they were oh so close, and his mind was taking control. The eyes were right - they were bright, laced with gold and full of compassion and affection, wrinkling in the edges as he laughed and then moaned. The voice was right. The body was right. But he was too silent. His skin was too pale. His movements too rough. The whispered seduction, a promise of comfort, of relief, of clarity. And yet he felt nothing except the swelling of grief and hatred and loathing as Dark held him down and used his body.

He twisted as Dark's thrusts became painful, his sore body rejecting them, wishing for isolation. Dark growled and held him still. He bit at Sean's collarbone and created bruises up to his neck. It hurt. Sean wondered idly if he deserved the pain, as he cheated on his boyfriend with his brother. It took until Dark had finished, dumping his load in Sean and then pulling out, slumping onto the bed beside him for only a minute to catch his breath before dressing and leaving, that Sean came to the conclusion he did.

Mark's mother offered Sean the guest room for longer. She said that he could stay longer, as long as he needed. He politely declined, smiling emptily and saying he really should return to the apartment. She offered to come with him, to his and Mark- to his home. To aid in sorting through Mark's possessions. Or just to sit with him so he didn't have to be alone. Once again, Sean smiles and shakes his head, thanking her for hosting him. He gives her his most sincere condolences and says that he really must leave.

Sean catches Dark watching him from the window as he pulls out of the driveway in the rented car.

He doesn't start or even feel anything as he thinks surely that it would have been better if Dark had been hit instead of Mark. Sean smiles at his selfish thinking and nods as if confirming some twisted theory he had on his own self.

It only took Felix a month before he visited Sean's flat. He knocked on the door and announced that Sean hadn't communicated with anyone for a week, so he was here.

The knock on the door wasn't unexpected. Even so, Sean had been dreading it. Lying on the sofa, staring at the chipped door, wondering when it would be knocked upon. He had thought that it would perhaps be the landlord, until he remembered he had paid her for most of the year before travelling to the funeral. It was still cold.

Sean sat up, and remained still for a few minutes as his head span. Pounding thumping on his door didn't help with the headache that was forming. Eventually he stood and wandered over.

Felix's face was drawn and thin, anxiety and concern outlining his frown and down turned eyes. Sean could see the effect that Mark's demise had had on him.

Demise. Funny word. Sean chuckled lightly at his thoughts and Felix swallowed and stared at him, as if contemplating Sean's sanity.

"Can I come… in?" He asked, indicating inside. Blond hair soaked, sticking to his scalp, clothes pasted onto white skin. After a nod and his obstacle stepping aside, Felix came in. Sean noted humorlessly that it was still raining before he closed the door.

Felix stayed for two weeks total. He had eyed the neat flat warily, but Sean felt no anxiety. Of course he had cleaned up, he had known that someone was coming. Again, Sean wondered if he had not responded in order for someone to come, instead of asking for someone to come. Again, he also thought that if he didn't respond then maybe Dark would be sent. He still wanted to bash Dark's head against the table and splatter his brains against the wall. Sean smiled.

When Felix had left, he told Sean sternly that he had to start eating and taking care of himself, and that when he returned soon, that if he wasn't then he would be forced to stay with someone else. Sean verbalised his thought from months ago and told Felix that he wasn't a child. Felix frowned and didn't respond.

It wasn't until a year after the events of Mark's death that Sean realised something fundamental had changed about him. Having kept his promise, he had spoken to Felix and others minimally to reassure them that he was fine and that they had no need to worry. Being alone was good for him.

Of course, he omitted a lot of facts from their conversation. He never told them how he wouldn't sleep, simply staring at the space Mark used to occupy before digging his nails into his hand and bleeding on the once white sheets. Or how he took Mark's computer, pulled it apart and then threw it against the wall. It smashed into thousands of pieces, sparks and glass and metal flying onto the floor. Or how he had dreams where he would rip out someone's throat - usually Dark or Mark or Amy's - and bathe in their blood, and would wake up with sticky boxers and dried sweat clinging to his skin.

It was only when he himself was admitted to a nearby hospital that anyone came to visit him at all. And just to Sean's luck, it was Dark.

"Felix is coming in a few days. So are some… other of Mark's- your friends."

Sean nodded at Dark, smiling softly. Now he heard it, after months and months of imaging Mark's voice floating around the apartment, laughing and joking and moaning, he could distinguish Mark's voice from his. It wasn't all that close to begin with if he was honest with himself. And Sean was done kidding himself.

"Why didn't you talk to someone if it... " trailing off, unsure of how to continue, Dark nodded to the bandages across Sean's throat. There was a smattering of crimson decorating them in a thin stripe. No matter how often they were changed or how old the wound was, it still bled through the pure white.

Something shiny caught Sean's attention. A scalpel, alongside his pain medication. He instinctively went grab it, only was to far.

His upper body hit the floor before his lower half did, and only once he was sprawled across the lino did Dark move to take action. When he had helped Sean back onto the bed and continued to talk to him, Sean glanced to the small table again. The next dose of his pills were there, however the scalpel was gone.

A storm cancelled all of the flights to Ireland. Everyone sent messages and video called Sean, frowning and asking what happened and then falling quiet when they received their answer. This continued, each person's reaction similar if not the same, all throughout his hospital stay and then again once he was in his flat. He bore this, the constant questions and pitying comments, until he decided to flush his phone down the toilet.

Dark remained in Ireland. He had planned to leave, however since that wasn't likely to happen, he stayed with Sean.

"Sean?" came the deep voice from the kitchen. "Are there any 24 hours shops around here?"

Wondering slowly into the kitchen, Sean paused, hovering in the doorway. Dark was sneering at the contents of his cupboards, pulling out lone tins of tomatoes and some packets of moldy just-add-water powders. For a second. Sean blinked and saw Mark there. He was at the stove, the pan bubbling with a tomato sauce, two plates of spaghetti on the counter, steam rising from them. Then Dark remained, with his hand stuck inside the fridge before simply grabbing a bin bag and emptying the rotten corpses of vegetables.

The impulse was strong, and uncontrollable. Sean didn't even try to control it anyhow so it didn't matter if he could have been stronger. He moved forward and Dark turned, expecting an answer to his question. Sean went to the corner of the counter, and rested his hand on a random knife in the block. He could feel Dark still. There was a moment of sweet silence before hands hovering by his peripheral, and then Dark's face. Not worried, maybe worried. Mostly annoyed.

"Sean, step back from the knives. Okay? Take a step back. You're okay. You're not alone. You can work through this."

He knew he was going to be alright, Sean thought with a slightest tint of confusion. Maybe Dark wasn't as smart as he led everyone to believe. Sean smiled and did as Dark said. His hand curled around the handle of the knife, and stepped back. It was heavy in his hand.

Dark took this in his stride, hands going up beside his head. "Just hand the knife to me, okay? Slowly, just-" he stepped forward and put his hand out. Sean smiled as the impulse throbbed within him, and then he was handing Dark the knife, pushing the blade through his palm and releasing the handle.

Sean was cruel. 

He himself knew this, as he seized the kettle and, with a powerful movement, smashed it into Dark's head. No blood this round, only shrieks as Dark attempted to back away from him.

Sean had no more empathy.

He raised the kettle again and brought it down; Dark went with it. They crumpled to the floor together. When the image of Mark crumpling came to his mind, he smiled wider, shivering in pleasure.

Sean was unstable.

Blood began to pool around them as the dent in Dark's head grew and grew until it was a mess of crimson, fat and muscle oozing from the cracks of purple and red. He had grown white, eyes wide open and the last of his screams having died in his throat.

Sean broke.

He giggled, continuing to open up the skull as he was doused in the bodily fluids of his victim. The kettle was caked with blood, droplets being flung all over the room as it was lifted and brought down wildly and erratically.

He slowed down until the kettle was resting on the floor and Dark wasn't moving. He flopped down beside Dark, not minding the blood, for a minute to catch his breath before standing and going to the sink to clean the kettle.

Sean was alone.


End file.
